


Vision of Love

by CypressSunn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, In Media Res, Liz is not from Roswell, meeting later in life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-09-30 09:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CypressSunn/pseuds/CypressSunn
Summary: It happens like this:A beautiful woman walks into a bar and her fool of a bartender falls in love.





	Vision of Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suzteel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzteel/gifts).

> Happy belated birthday!!  
Please accept my humble gift and know that all of this sappy romantic schmoop is your fault!

_“I had a vision of love_  
_ And it was all that you've given to me.”  
\- Mariah Carey _

“Is tonight the night?” 

Its Sal asking at the stroke of six when Maria clocks in and mills her way around the bar. They’re busy tonight, her shift managers have texted her as much, and frequently. It is Maria does not indulge Sal’s muckraking grin and wiggle eyebrows. First comes business, _ chisme _after. The first of which, the cursive lasso emblazoned happy hour placard comes down. Second, the day shift tip jar is handed off to the kitchen staff. Third, update the night’s drink’s special; Whiskey Sweet N’ Sours and Two Mule Kicker. Then and only then does Maria shoot Sal the dirtiest look she can while still being customer ready.

“Tonight is not the night. And no,” Maria tuts, raising one finger to Sal’s open mouth. “Neither is any other night. And before you even think to ask. She’s gone.”

Maria does not let her face fall as the words leave her lips. Not an inch, not a millimeter. She racks glasses and wipes the counter. Checks the taps and the carbonation. Where are the fresh lime wedges? Need more coasters. Need more napkins. Need to not remember; She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s gone.

“Really, Boss?” Sal edges delicately. For a bouncer his size, he’s a man who only trips over his words. “I thought you two-”

“I know what you all thought,” Maria chides, checking the coinage and cash in the register. “You thought a lifelong townie like me was just gonna forget my place in the world as soon as a yuppie tourist made eyes at me.”

Dammit. That was bitter. Revealing. Maria bites her lip. Shrugs it off and pours a pint. Cutting the foam, she slides it to the other end of the bar. The cattle-hand in the last chair doesn’t know yet that he’s still thirsty. But that Wild Pony provides an unparalleled level of service and Maria DeLuca always knows what’s coming next. Mostly. Usually. Until a pair of perfect brown eyes and the sweetest pout saddles up to her barside. 

A city girl, out-of-towner. Stuck in a flyover state on the way to the job of her dreams. Her own rightful place in this lovesick world.

“You liked her, Boss.”

“Girls like her only need a one-night hearth, a cold drink, a kiss goodbye. And you leave it at that.”

“Did you even get to the kissing part?”

Maria rewards that with a vile look. It sends Maggie Sherburn, who was about to ask for something on the rocks, skittering in the opposite direction. She can flag down a server for all Maria cares.

“Sorry, ma’am,” Sal backpedals.

“Get to work,” Maria reminds him. “And while you're at it, tell the rest of the crew that the bet you think I don’t know about is _ off _. And the next time any of you want to weigh in on my love life-”

“Got it, Boss,” Sal trudges off, disappointed. But his hurried footsteps stop halfway to his post. He towers above the crowd, with a birds-eye view of something, then turns back to look at his employer. It's a meek, worried look. 

Maria breaths in deep. “Salvador,” Maria warns.

“You might wanna keep your eyes on the door, ma’am,” Sal says, walking off at last. “We got ourselves a VIP.”

Maria sighs. And then the crowded field of view parts and she can see the front door. She’s standing in the doorway, neon lights glinting off of her like stardust. Tresses swept back, lips redder than red.

No. She’s supposed to be-

Liz catches sight of Maria seconds before she disappears through the beaded curtain to the back office.

* * *

It happens like this:

A beautiful woman walks into a bar and her fool of a bartender falls in love. The woman only orders a drink and a little commiseration. She tells her life story, her studies, her accolades. But then pays double when she sees the last customer didn’t tip for shit. She tells the bartender she loves the sound of her voice. Applauds the grace and humility it takes to wait upon, the go unthanked. She even asks, when’s the last time you had a little fun in your own bar? Enough fun to dance holes into your shoes, drink deep and smoke away the moonlight.

It’s a perfect night, until the palm reading. Until Maria remembers some things are too good to be true.

When Liz tilted her head up to catch Maria’s lips, she turned away, lifting her cigarette to her lips and pretended not to see.

* * *

“You can’t hide in here all night,” Nell, one of her servers, singsongs through the back office door.

“I’m not hiding in my own bar,” Maria snaps, curled up behind her desk. “I’m doing… paperwork.”

“Okay. But the boys are taking new bets on how long it’ll take you to come out.”

Dammit. Where’s the loyalty? Where’s the respect?

Maria cracks the door open, squeaking the old hinges. “Who wins if I come out now?” 

Nell smiles, clicking her chipped manicure. “Me.”

“I should fire all of you,” Maria groans, pulling her apron back on.

* * *

She’s perched in her regular seat, sipping something fruity. She’s staring at the labels on the back wall. Bored and waiting and still so beautiful. Maria takes a deep breath when her stray hair slips over her cheeks, her red mouth on her straw. Now or never, get it over with.

“What are we drinking tonight?”

She perks up, eases up straight.

“Virgin piña coladas,” Liz says with a wrinkled nose.

“Virgin? Why?”

“I wanted to be sober for this part,” Liz says, leans in close. “And you do know how to keep a girl waiting.”

Maria lets her expectant whisper roll off of her. Suppresses a shiver. “My staff are more than-”

“I didn’t come here for the staff. And you know that.”

Maria glances aside. Pastes a smile in place and picks up a cleaning rag.

“There you go again,” Liz says. 

“Again?” Maria murmurs, scrubbing the bartop with all her attention.

Liz cradles her chin in her hand, elbows on the counter. “Hiding behind your job. Like if you work hard enough you could disappear right in front of me.”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

Liz’s shoulder slouch down. Her eyes never leave Maria.

“When’s your next smoke break?”

“It’s a busy night,” Maria dodges. “So not for a while.”

“I can wait,” Liz promises.

* * *

What should have happened was this:

After her shiny new California job left her in a lurch, canceling her airfare on her second layover, and telling her the promised housing hit a snag and the contracts never went through so they weren’t really liable for leaving her in hanging— that’s when Liz should have turned tail and headed home. 

She should have cut her losses, taken the L, done anything else but stop in the most unassuming local’s bar. She shouldn’t have moved towards Maria like magnetism pulled at her heels. Shouldn’t have stayed so late, talked so long. Swapping stories about science fact and emotion, about intuition versus sound practical data. Certainly should not have extended her hotel stay to come back the next night and the next.

Because a fun little frolic through a strange little tourist trap of a town can only last so long. It gets old, gets boring. Women like her are too big, too brilliant for anyplace so small-minded.

And when the call comes that the job is back on, well, isn’t that just the universe righting itself? The stars all aligning to pull her away from this place. Maria appreciates the sorry look in Liz’s eye when she tells her, shows her the plane ticket and waits for an answer to a question neither of them has dared to ask.

“Happy travels,” Maria tells her as stoic as she can muster. She watches Liz’s eyes fall, her boots turn and march out the door.

* * *

“You look jittery, Boss,” Mickey observes for the third time between counting his tips, entirely unhelpful. Her nerves are fried, of course. This wasn’t in the cards, not in her horoscope either. “When _ was _your last smoke break?”

Two passing servers, a bouncer and a backroom stocker avert their eyes, pretending not to listen in for Maria’s answer. Liz, thankfully, is lingering near the pool tables. She’s a terrible shot. She keeps glancing over.

“All of you are fired. Immediately.”

Unphased, no one stops working. Mickey gives her a pitying look, counts a meager handful of change and admits, “You know we love you, right, Boss-” 

Maria moans. “Stop.” Tugging a stray rolled cigarette out of her apron, she trudges past Liz and taps her on the shoulder. Liz follows immediately, game abandoned, out the back entrance. 

* * *

“Shouldn’t you be in California by now?” Maria accuses, kicking rocks at the edge of the parking lot.

“Almost got there,” Liz says with a nod. “Made it all the way to the airport, but…”

“But what?”

“But I remembered our karaoke night. You sang _ Leaving On A Jet Plane, _remember? And I just-” Liz steps up, reaches for Maria’s face. The fingertips trace the tenderest spots, ignite the panging of her heart. “I had to ask myself where did I really think I was going? What was I leaving behind?”

Maria pulls back. “We can’t-”

“Why not?” Liz sighs. “Is it the small-town mentality? Because you can’t live your life for other people-”

“Literally everyone I know is pulling for us,” Maria admits. It's more than a little embarrassing to say aloud. The way her staff doted on Liz, giddy and excited that their employer was falling over her own heart. “That’s not it. That’s not why this isn’t possible.”

“How about you kiss me first before telling me what is or isn’t possible?” Liz insists, lips parted and open. “Because ever since I first walked into your bar, every piece of evidence I can find, all of it points to this. That you feel the same way.”

Maria can’t deny it. How warm and eased Liz’s presence makes her. How her closeness leaves her wanting and needing more.

“Why do you always pull away at the last second? I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere until you tell me-”

“Yes, you are,” Maria cuts in. Because it's an unbearable thing to hold on the inside. “Liz, the first night I read your palm. I saw your future. And it’s a beautiful future. It’s like the sun shining in your eyes kind of light. It hurts to look at it too long, y’know? The same way it hurts to look at you, right now and know that I can’t keep you. Not the way I want to.”

Maria turns to run but Liz’s words drag her back.

“Who says you can’t?”

“Liz,” Maria warns brokenly.

“No I’m really asking. Because I’m not taking the job in California.”

Maria’s throat tightens. A soft “why not” creaks from her voice.

“They’ve already proven how little they value me. They probably pulled the plug on the offer to hand it to some white guy who decided last second to go with a different, cushier offer. I put feelers out here. There’s promising research all over. I could still do what I love here, with the woman that I-”

Maria stops her. She has to. “We met two weeks ago.”

“And I am already all in. And I haven’t done anything this uncalculated or spontaneous since the sixth grade. So trust me when I say that the way you make me feel is scary for me, too.”

Maria could so easily sink into this feeling. This hope. But Maria DeLuca is a woman who takes care of those who cannot take care of themselves. The people who don’t know what they really want. Who can’t possibly know what's ahead of them. She can’t let herself pretend, not for a second, that she gets to take more than she deserves.

“There’s a woman in your future. Another woman, the perfect woman… the great love of your life. And you’re going to be so glad you didn’t settle for some small town life when you meet her.”

Liz stands with her mouth agape. Eyes hard and hopeless as Maria turns tail and returns inside.

* * *

Nobody dares speak to Maria for the rest of the night. Nobody mentions how long she’s in the restroom, dabbing at hot tears and reapplying her makeup. Nobody mentions which way the city girl tourist headed when she tore out of there. Nobody mentions whoever bet big on it all ending in the Boss’s heartbreak.

But Maria’s glad someone’s a winner in all of this.

* * *

Last call is the same old shuffle. They pack it in and ship out the stragglers. The lights flipped on at full brightness, sending the nocturnal patrons scurrying for the door. The bar looks unnatural in its empty state. Maria has never liked it. Always skipped out as soon as possible. But the barren quiet feels safe then. A place to hang her head and feel small in the infinite cosmos.

Nobody gets everything they want, after all.

There’s only her truck in the lot outside. And a shadow on the other side of it. Maria knows who it is.

“What are you still doing here?” Maria asks. There isn’t much left of her heart can take.

“Is it like a vision or a feeling?” Liz asks back, impromptu.

“What?”

“When you look into my future, is it a vision or a feeling? Which of your senses are you using? Is it really like a sixth sense? Something that can’t be recorded or measured or…” Liz waves her hand in little concentric circles, searching for a word, “is it compounding upon your traditional senses? An extension of the nervous system and its perceptions?”

Maria shakes her head. “Does it matter?”

Liz scoffs before laughing. “Does it matter?” she repeats. “Yeah, it matters. Because if you would have told me two weeks ago that I was centering life choices on psychic premonitions, I would have died laughing. Because I don’t believe in this stuff. I am a woman of skepticism. I have degrees and honors that say so. But I spend a few nights in your bar,” Liz raised a pointed accusatory finger at Maria, like she was the one breaking Liz’s heart, “and suddenly the world doesn’t make sense without you and your unprovable, unverifiable, _ unbelievable _ everything.” Liz raked a hand through her hair so hard it must have hurt, tears in her eyes, restless desperation moving her feet.

“It’s not a vision,” Maria offers up, quiet and damning.

“So this woman you see when you look at me, the person standing between us… You can’t see her, her face, what she looks like?”

“No. I can’t help you find her,” Maria’s voice cuts out. It’s amazing how deep a hurt can go. “Liz, I’m sorry. I wish things could be different. But I can only say goodbye so many times. Asking me to do it again is just cruel.”

Maria steps around her, gathers the keys to her truck.

“Can you see your own future?” Liz demands, pulling at Maria’s wrist. Maria’s jingling keys stop, quiet in the windless air. Liz’s touch burns right through her.

“No one’s ever asked that before,” Maria realizes. “But no. I can’t. I can do the guesswork, use the horoscopes. Other than that, it’s a mystery.”

Liz steps closer, turning Maria around in her hands until her back is pressed up against the side of her truck. Her body is pliant following Liz’s lead, moving in her too-warm hands like she belongs there.

“So you can’t see the face of the supposed great love of my life. And you can’t see your own future. What does that tell you, Maria?”

Maria’s heart is beating in her throat, she can hardly breathe around it, let alone speak. “I- You can’t just-”

“I can’t what?” Liz tilts her head to the side. “Can’t beat you at your own game?” Liz reaches up, gingerly tucks Maria’s hair behind her ears and marvels at her face. “C’mon, follow the logic. Or better yet, _ prove _to me that you aren’t the great love that I’m waiting on. Can you do that?”

Maria shakes her head.

“Okay,” Liz beams up at her, smile broad and hopeful. “So I’m gonna ask you one more time to kiss me-”

Liz tastes the way her future feels. She shines, bright and unbridled. Colors blurring and boundless. It’s a hot and slow thing, the feel of her mouth, the way it flourishing open, giving way to touch. The world around them taking on new shapes as its trembles and quivers when Liz’s lip is between her teeth. All Maria can do is grab on, hold her close. Wave after wave coming over her, as Maria chases the bottomless satiation, the savor of piña coladas and everything, everything she could ever want.

When breathing becomes necessary, Liz giggles and asks, “Take me home?”

Maria still hasn’t caught her breath but she kisses her again. She knows its answer enough.

** _fin._ **

**Author's Note:**

> Based on Cynteel/Suzteel's very own birthday prompt, "I have spent a lot of time lately thinking about an au where Liz falls in love with the cute bartender, Maria."
> 
> I tossed in one of my 101 Prompts for good measure; #59. Shine.  
Lyrics & Title courtesty of Mariah Carey circa 1990.


End file.
